


Return to Solitude

by Siver



Series: Final Fantasy VI/Ghost Trick [22]
Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, FFVI GT AU, Final Fantasy VI AU, Multi, background Jowd/Alma/Cabanela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Ghost Trick Final Fantasy VI AU AU of Solitude in which Alma and Cabanela fall after the Floating Continent





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another What-If taking over. And another AU branch of the AU. New meaning to sprawling...

The air felt heavy and Alma’s breath came ragged as the group ran, stumbling over breaking rock. The strange land crumbled around them, but just ahead and below the airship waited. They made it. The others leapt down. In silent agreement Jowd and Alma stopped.

Memry’s voice reached them, shrill over the wind and groans and cracks of the lands “Hurry up! We have to go!”

Jowd’s voice wasn’t as loud, but carried a harmonic Alma knew would reach. “We wait.”

It was the only option. They exchanged a glance and turned to face the way they came, bracing each other against the shuddering ground beneath their feet. They didn’t have long, but he would make it. His voice still rang in her ears—“Go! I’ll catch up, go!” He would. She felt a pang; despite previous doubts and expectations he always came back. This time would be no different.

Another piece of ground fell away nearby. She felt Jowd tense under her arm. Where was he? She strained her vision, seeking, seeking.

“We’re running out of time,” Jowd said in a low voice.

“He’s coming,” Alma said fiercely.

He had to. They couldn’t be parted now of all times, when he’d returned. When they finally had the truth. He did not come back to die at that monster’s hands. He would come.

Alma swallowed, frantically searching the rocks until her eyes caught on a flash of white. “There!”

Cabanela ran toward them, long legs eating the ground; he darted over rocks and leapt a gap. His mouth opened as he approached.

“Go!”

Urgent, commanding. Wrong. Did he really think they could leave now? She wouldn’t turn her back on him again. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and it was as if a slow spell had been cast as she realized what was happening, picking out every awful detail. A crack in the ground. Cabanela’s teeth bared, a flash of pain crossing his features. His foot slipped, the ground sinking out from beneath him. They stepped forward, she felt as if through molasses. Jowd reached out. Cabanela made a final leap and slammed into him. Alma caught hold of him as he wobbled against Jowd, steadying him, and the three turned back to the ship as one for a final leap.

They landed with a thud onto the deck. Through the haze of fear and sudden relief Alma was aware of Memry saying something about leaving, but her focus turned toward the man between herself and Jowd. Cabanela was here. He trembled against them, breath fast and harsh, muffled against Jowd’s chest, and a hitch in it had her tightening her hold on him. He was here, this was really him. He came back. He was never that _thing._ She’d never been so happy to be wrong.

There was a soft thump. Cabanela’s head jerked up from Jowd. Alma followed his gaze.

“Sissel!”

He’d returned to human form and was on his knees, head in his hands. “The world,” he groaned. “It’s in so much pain.”

Alma frowned worriedly at him. What did he mean? The Statues… Emperor Sith’s threats and gloating. His shock and warning when the man they thought was Cabanela turned on him. What had the Jester set into motion? What had happened between him and Cabanela after they’d been knocked away? Like mere flies, she thought bitterly.

The ship shuddered and jerked. Memry’s voice, frantic now, cut through the air. “The ship! I can’t control her!”

“The engines!”

Kamila darted up from below deck. Her eyes were wide in a fearful face. “Something’s really wrong with them!”

There was an ominous creaking. She could hear Memry cursing at the wheel. Cabanela suddenly jerked away from them and her heart skipped a beat. Now what? Then she spotted it as Cabanela staggered into a run. The wood buckled, cracks running along the deck and Kamila right in the path. Goddesses no. She jumped to her feet and darted after, but Cabanela still moved faster. He caught hold of Kamila and spun, ignoring her protests, to fling her back toward Jowd.

Relief surged through her as Jowd caught a firm hold of Kamila. It wasn’t to last. The ship rocked sending them all staggering and another sound drew Alma’s attention upward. She didn’t understand how the ship was built or how it worked, but it was clear when it was breaking down and…

“Cabanela watch out!”

She bowled into him, knocking them both back and onto the deck as wood and metal crashed over where he’d been standing. A deafening crack rent the air and went barely noticed by Alma over Kamila’s scream.

“Mom! Uncle!”

The ship tipped and they rolled, clinging to each other until they slammed into the rail. Wind rushed past.

Cabanela’s voiced was strained and held an unfamiliar note of fear. “No…”

Alma shakily lifted her head and stared in horror. They’d broken away from the rest of the ship and were falling fast. She could make out Jowd and Kamila growing farther away. Her hold on Cabanela tightened as she watched another piece of the airship fall away. How long before they went with it? Her family ripped from her again. She failed to protect them again! This wasn’t possible, this wasn’t possible!

“Alma!”

Cabanela struggled to sit up and slumped against her his hand gripping hers.

“The elevator,” he choked out through the rushing wind.

She gave him a blank stare. His voice was weak and what was he saying? Had he hit his head?

“Vector.”

Realization struck her. Of course! She reached for the magic; a slow spell could only do so much, but it had helped then. Maybe now. The wind snatched at her breath. She gasped out the words. The wind slowed. Breath came a little easier.

“There,” she murmured. One last chance.

An odd sigh sounded from Cabanela. His grip on her hand went slack and his head dropped against her.

“Cabanela!”

No response. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, clenching her eyes shut. She wouldn’t lose him as well. There was nothing to do now but wait for the inevitable stop.


	2. Chapter 2

Alma was aware of a deep ache first. She dragged her eyes open to stare in confusion at the red and orange sky above. Sunset already? Memories slowly trickled in in an increasingly horrifying stream. She barely stopped herself from bolting up. Slow down, take stock, and make sure she wouldn’t cause herself more damage. She _knew_ this.

A cautious check over herself showed that as far as she could tell, while she felt like a massive bruise, she was otherwise unscathed. She let a cure wash over her when her eyes caught on the blood on her shirt. But she hadn’t been injured in that way…

“Cabanela,” she breathed.

Her eyes darted around frantically. She’d been holding onto him; he couldn’t be far. The wreckage was close, a hollow shell of itself. Wood and metal lay in scattered pieces all around her.

She spotted his trailing scarf first and there he was, sprawled nearby face first on the ground under a large plank of wood. She scrambled over to him. _Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead._ The wood was heaved and thrust aside before she dropped to kneel next to him. With a gentle grip on his shoulders she slowly turned him over. It was a disturbing sight. That sickly pallor didn’t belong to his face. This unnatural stillness wasn’t Cabanela. Blood stained his clothing, gone unnoticed before in the chaos and that was wrong too. A check gave her a weak and thready pulse and shallow breathing.

Alma took a deep breath. He was alive. Now to make sure he stayed that way. She carefully peeled back the bloody tear in his clothing revealing the worse gash down his side. She grimaced. That had to have happened in his confrontation with the Jester and still he came running and neither she nor Jowd had noticed.

She called on the cure magic, casting until she was satisfied the injury was fully closed and healed. She cast another for good measure—he was no doubt as battered as she felt. Once she was certain she’d done what she could she leaned back with a sigh. He hadn’t stirred, but after everything he’d gone through she knew that should come as no surprise.

Alma rubbed her arms. There was a chill in the air and she stared up into the sky, trying to find the sun with little luck. Maybe it was approaching nightfall. Her gaze wandered lower, searching the land around them. There was some sort of large rough looking hill in the distance. It was difficult to gauge the distance, but it seemed a good target. If they could get a good vantage point, they could get the lay of the land, find any signs of civilization. Look for sources of water if they didn’t find one on the way; hers wouldn’t last much longer.

With a plan set, she turned her attention back to their immediate surroundings. It was too still. Her breath sounded too loud in an unnatural silence. No birds, no buzz of bugs, no wind.

She took to her feet, eyeing the airship wreckage. They fell with a sizable chunk. As she approached she could see the hollowed out mass and a torn tapestry still dangling from one wall inside. She felt a pang. Poor Memry, her pride and joy, her home torn apart. But it could still serve one purpose. It wasn’t much of a shelter but would provide some cover. It didn’t have to last. Knowing Cabanela he’d wake soon enough and there was no point in staying here.

She turned back to Cabanela, kneeling down again to gather him into her arms. Another seed of worry sprouted as she rose, holding him close. He was a dead-weight, limbs dangling lifelessly, in her arms. Old memories surfaced; they felt like a lifetime ago. Even in sleep or close to it, when Jowd picked him up, Cabanela would find a way to shift and snuggle deeper against him, like a cat seeking warmth. He was never so still.

She brought him into the ship, laying him back down as gently as she could and rearranging herself so that she sat, leaning against the wall and took his head into her lap. Let him sleep. Once he woke, they could move on and figure out where they were.

With a quick word Alma conjured a small fire into her hand and held it carefully. Let it warm them, but she didn’t dare do anything more lasting. The last thing they needed was to set the ship’s remains alight. Whether it was a sob or a laugh she suddenly had to choke back, she couldn’t say when Memry’s words while Lynne played with a fireball came back to her—“You break it, you buy it!”

Well, it seemed Figaro’s treasury would be needed in the future. They’d broken it; they utterly destroyed it. Buy indeed. If Memry yet lived. If anyone else survived. She took a shuddering breath and clenched her eyes closed as the images of Jowd and Kamila rose. They survived, they had to. She and Cabanela couldn’t be the only two survivors. They were okay, they were okay.

Her gaze drifted down to Cabanela’s face where her small fire’s light cast odd shadows that seemed to deepen the worn lines and angles. Worn. Him. It was unfathomable. This wasn’t quite the man they once knew nor was it the fixed smile and crazed glint of the Jester. Not the Jester.

The Jester: Jowd’s torment, her torment and Cabanela himself, enslaved by him. That… _thing_ had toyed with them all and tore them apart again.

From Narshe’s suspicion through the Opera that tore through her barriers and to Vector that left her trapped between. She swallowed. Cabanela had never spoken anything but the truth and had been just as confused as they were.

“You didn’t betray us,” she said softly. Never had. They’d had it all wrong. She leaned back with a sigh. They both needed rest and she wasn’t going to get it like this while her thoughts ran in circles. She watched her flame and turned her focus inward, focusing on her breath until a calm came over her. The flame flickered and died out. Without a second thought she sought out one of Cabanela’s hands and took it in her own. Rest and wait.

Alma woke with a start and a curse at herself. She’d meant to remain calm, but watchful; she hadn’t meant to go right to sleep. How long had she been out? Cabanela’s head was still a weight in her lap. He hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. She chewed her lip. Maybe she’d only dozed off for a few minutes? She did feel thirsty—something she fixed with a small gulp of her water—and she didn’t feel quite as tired, but if she had been out for a while, shouldn’t Cabanela have woken by now? It also still seemed dim outside.

“One moment,” she murmured to him and eased him off her before slipping outside.

The skies above remained drenched in the same reds and oranges as before. As she squinted up she thought she saw a faint light. Was that really the sun? By its position it looked to be morning even if the rest of skies didn’t match.

“What has he done…?”

The far off hill caught her attention once more and her plan came back to mind. They couldn’t keep staying here. She turned away and hurried back to Cabanela’s side. She still had some of her rations left. Once he woke they could eat and then be on their way.

“Cabanela,” she said firmly and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Cabanela, wake up. Cabanela!” Her hand slipped from his shoulder. If it wasn’t for his soft breathing, she’d fear he’d died over night if night it had been. As was he was at least alive if seeming dead to the world.

She sagged back against the wall appetite suddenly forgotten, but she slowly picked through her bag. As little as she suddenly wanted it, she had to keep her strength up for the road ahead, especially… especially if she had to take on his weight as well.

The food seemed flavourless as she forced down what she could while she watched Cabanela, willing him to wake. When she finished she waited a little longer to let her food settle and in the vain hope that this little extra time would be all he needed to rejoin her. Another vain hope dashed.

So be it. She gathered both her things and herself together. There was only one option left and so she heaved him up, shifting around until she got him draped over her shoulders. For once she found herself wishing he wasn’t quite so tall, but he was a bit lighter than she expected—worrying in other circumstances, but for now she’d take this small blessing.

With her gaze fixed on the far off hill she set off across the silent land. It was slow going as she watched her pace and took breaks to stretch out her shoulders and check on Cabanela. She thought she caught movement a couple times out of the corner of her eye, but to her relief nothing came of it. She almost wondered if she imagined them; the place otherwise seemed lifeless. Did anything else live here? Were they merely hiding in the aftermath of the disaster? She was relieved to not run into anything hostile, but her unease grew at the silent stillness of the place.

As the day wore on occasional glances at the sky told her that faint light that had to be the sun was moving, but the sky remained as red and unchanging as ever and the land around them dull and quiet. The hill, rough and now that she was close, she could see was more cliff than anything loomed overhead. As she passed her gaze over it she thought she spotted a possible way up, but another sight caught her attention. There was a figure lying in the grass.

Alma hurried toward to it. There was someone here, perhaps someone injured or… Her heart sunk as she stood over the man lying broken and limbs twisted in the grass, clearly beyond any aid. But someone had been here; that meant others could be.

She lowered Cabanela into the grass nearby near a large boulder and went back to the man. With a silent apology she crouched and swiftly searched him. He was carrying little. Maybe that was a clue in itself? Could he have a home nearby? This wasn’t news she looked forward to delivering.

There was still the path winding upward and she went to go look at it. It looked less rugged than she expected as if it had been cared for, but still narrow and possibly steep in some spots. She glanced between it and Cabanela worriedly. It would be foolish to risk them both trying to carry him up only to have to carry him right back down again, but she couldn’t leave him alone and defenceless either. Unless…

She hurried back to him and shifted him to lie against the boulder between it and the cliff face. Then she rummaged in the pouch in which she knew he kept his magicite and there…

“Phantom?” she spoke softly to the green stone. “Are you there? I have a small favour to ask of you.”

The stone gave her a brief and faint flicker of acknowledgement.

“I have to go up the cliff. Can you please hide Cabanela? I won’t be gone long.”

Phantom’s voice was faint and dull. “As you wish.”

Alma eyed the stone worriedly and then it hit her. Of course, they weren’t the only ones parted again from their loved ones. She found herself giving the stone a gentle squeeze as she would a hand.

“We will find Seraph again too,” she said softly. “I promise.”

The stone remained dull and silent. “If Cabanela wakes while I’m gone,” Alma continued, “please let him know where I’ve gone and that I’ll be back soon. Tell him to stay.”

“As you wish.”

“Thank you.” Alma returned the magicite to Cabanela’s pouch. The air wavered and she thought she caught the faint image of a grey robed figure before it and Cabanela both vanished from sight. She felt around for Cabanela’s hand and took it into her own. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

The path while narrow was indeed clearer than she’d expect and unburdened she traversed it as quickly as she was safely able. At the top the surroundings weren’t much better for the view being as dreary as they’d been since they set out from the wreckage.

They were on an island and not a big one. There was a shore not far from here. The ocean was a dark and foreboding mass all around them. Trapped. She tore her gaze away and spotted a small copse of trees. Among them was some kind of small dark mass, a structure of some sort? It was difficult to make out from this distance. And that was all. No signs of a town or even a village. Yet someone had been here and she eyed the trees. With no other obvious signs it seemed they only had one choice.

She hurried back down the path to Cabanela. There were no signs of disruption and with a bit of feeling around she found Phantom’s magicite again.

“I’m back. Can you release the spell?”

Phantom didn’t respond, but Cabanela faded back into view. She sighed, shaking the sinking feeling that he was as still as ever—she knew that was the most likely result—and yet… There wasn’t time to dwell on failed hopes. She lifted him again and with a last look around the place to fix it in her mind—she would come back—she set out again.

As she approached the trees the air took on a salty tang. They were close to the shore as well, but Alma’s attention remained fixed on that structure. It didn’t take long to find. A cottage sat nestled amongst the trees. A small well-tended garden took up one side and a well stood nearby. Alma approached the door feeling a mix of relief and worry. This place most likely belonged to the man she’d found, but what of a family or partner? With a heavy heart she knocked on the door.

No response. She waited a little longer, tried again and when no one continued to come, she tested the door. It was unlocked. She nudged it open and peeked in.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

It was a small place, cozy, she thought. The place was made up of one room with another door at the opposite side. There was a small table and a chair, a wardrobe, hearth and bed. One of everything she noted, which meant she likely had found its lone occupant.

She entered fully, nudging the door closed with her foot. If she was wrong she would deal with the consequences; she couldn’t keep wandering like this and this was the perfect place to rest. Shaking off any further worries, she laid out Cabanela on the floor. Get him properly cleaned up and into the bed. There was the well outside. She lit the fire with a small spell then hurried out to draw a pale of water, bringing it back in to warm it in the hearth.

While she waited she removed Cabanela’s shoes and bloodied shirt, her eyes catching on the dried blood and then her breath catching on older looking scars across his torso.

“What did they do to you?”

They’d seen his behaviour at Vector; she hadn’t known before then he was capable of such nerves. The Jester had said enough to give them a general idea. His shadow, his weapon. Cidgeon’s tales provided further illumination. She brushed a hand across his cheek.

“And we had no idea…” How much did he know now?

She stared for a moment longer before giving herself a shake and fetching the water. Once she cleaned away the blood and was satisfied she’d done as much as she was able she lifted him once more, cradling him close this time. A small part of her expected him to wink an eye open or press closer, but of course he remained as lifeless as ever. She brought him to the bed and tucked the blanket over him. It was difficult to have seen him when she found him and to have carried his helpless body. Somehow in the bed, he now looked even more vulnerable and Alma abruptly turned away. This wouldn’t last. He would wake soon. She had her own needs to attend now.

She dragged the chair over to the hearth and sunk into it. One more meal’s worth of food, but it was okay. There was the garden outside and likely some food stored here. She would eat then take a look around. A sound plan… and one that failed as, food done, exhaustion settled into her bones and she sunk into the swelling haze of fatigue.

Muscles ached. She was stiff and uncomfortable. Had she fallen asleep in her office…? Alma dragged her eyes open and stared at the unfamiliar hearth and the strange room around her before her memories sunk in. She flung herself from the chair, immediately regretting it as she staggered. Stupid move, but she was up now and she hurried to Cabanela’s bedside. He was exactly as she’d left him and her urgency faded back to a tired sag.

She glanced out the window beside his bed. It was brighter than it had been when they arrived but they still seemed trapped in this perpetual sunset lighting. She could assume a night had passed, so a day and a night—two nights in total? And still he slept. This wasn’t like him. She attempted another cure spell only for it to fizzle as she expected but didn’t want to admit to. At least he was alive; it was something to hold on to.

There was still yesterday’s plan before sleep had taken its hold, so she reluctantly turned away from the bed and set to exploring the house. A small set of dishes, some clothing that all looked to belong to one person, a small selection of books including a journal she set on the table for later. Opening the other door revealed stairs down into a single basement room. There she found gardening tools, an ax and shovel, a small amount of stored vegetables, and her eyes rested on a fishing rod. She froze.

How long had it been…? Fish was a delicacy in Figaro, rarely brought in. But Doma… Doma surrounded by its lakes and rivers, Doma…

She’d still been quite young when she begged her father to take her along with him and her older sister the first time. As it turned out the whole affair was nowhere near as exciting as the hard fought battles with leviathans she’d painted in her imagination, but as she grew older she learned to find her own quiet appreciation for it even if it was never something she’d taken a great interest in, letting her sister keep that passion for herself.

But there had been moments, hadn’t there? A memory she hadn’t thought about in years surfaced. When she and Jowd got shooed out? Their guard remained close enough to intervene if a problem arose while far enough to grant some modicum of privacy. Her mouth twitched. Very little fishing happened that day, but Jowd had made a tremendous splash when she pushed him into the lake. How he’d laughed… and even harder at her expression when he came up with the one fish they temporarily caught in his hands. He’d always had such a good laugh… she couldn’t even be mad when she fell in shortly after.

The warmest laugh… and now it was gone. Her eyes welled. Five years for such a short time together and he hadn’t been the same. Neither was she. Kamila had grown so much. She’d missed so much of their daughter’s life. Jowd was gone. Kamila was gone. Her mother and father and sister… dead. She sunk to her knees, no longer able to hold back the rising sob. She was alone again, with the man she’d no longer been able to trust for so long, the man who she wasn’t sure she knew anymore either and he wasn’t here, not really. They were all… gone.

Several choked gasps later she managed to catch enough of a hold on her breathing to start slowing it. She scrubbed furiously at her eyes. She was a Queen. She ruled alone for five years. Figaro was out of her reach but this was no different. She had to survive. Cabanela was under her care. Jowd and Kamila, Lynne and Missile. Everyone. They could still be out there as well. She rose to her feet and set her shoulders. Live on. She would survive.

And so the days wore on, unchanging and slow. The remainder of the first was spent looking through parts of the journal. As expected the owner had lived alone and by the last entry she suspected he’d died the day the world was rent apart. She wondered just how many died. On the second day Alma left with the shovel to attend to the sombre task that still waited, with another request to the silent Phantom to inform Cabanela should he wake in her absence. It was a simple burial with her respects and gratitude given for a safe place to say.

As the days went by she tended to the tasks of survival, looking after the garden as best she knew how and learning the patterns of fishing along the ocean. Animals made their slow if sparse return and she kept a wary eye out for monsters. She saw few but those few she came across were like nothing she’d seen before, twisted and aggressive.

More and more of her nights were spent by Cabanela’s bedside. She read to him sometimes or merely spoke of her day at others until she slipped into the bed to curl up beside him with a hand over his chest where she could feel his heartbeat and his breath, the only reminders that he was still alive. In turn she hoped maybe some part of him would be aware of her presence and in time he might be guided back to her.

All she could do was live on and wait.


	3. Chapter 3

_Jowd, Kamila, Lynne, Missile, Cidgeon, Memry, Sissel, Amelie, Cait Sissel._

Alma stared again at the names. Every day she found herself opening the book to this page. She hadn’t needed to write them; they were engraved on her heart, pulled together by their shared struggle. But they were there, solid and real and a reminder that if there was any kindness left in the world, they were out there somewhere. Her gaze lingered on Jowd and Kamila. Where were they now? What did they do? The same questions every time until she forced herself to turn to her last entry to write another for this day.

It hadn’t taken long for her entries to look more or less the same, but it was something to do, a simple grounding routine in days that melded together.

**Day 76**

_I’ve reorganized the basement. The raft takes up too much space, but it should be easier to fetch things now. I was able to get some potatoes from the garden. Dinner should be a little more interesting today. Try as I might I’m afraid some of the other plants are starting to wither. I don’t know if there’s much I can do to help but I intend to try._

**Day 188**

_I cannot say I’ve ever had a green thumb and our environment isn’t helping. I’ve tried everything I can but the garden is dying. There is still some edible vegetation around and fish remain plentiful. We’ll be all right for now._

_I’ve made an attempt at starting a stool. We’ll want a second seat in time…_

**Day 196**

_Went fishing._

**Day 204**

Alma stared at the blank page. She could copy the previous entry and be correct and the one before that. She rose instead and went to the window. The same sight as usual… except that wasn’t quite right. She frowned up at the sky. It was growing darker but unless she had completely lost track of the time it was only early afternoon. The clouds were building and growing darker.

Rain. When was the last time…? She turned to the bed and perched on the edge.

“Rain again I think. It’s been so long. I suppose it’s good I got used to the desert,” she said idly. “Do you know, I was afraid it might not happen? I think we told you about the early days, didn’t we? Everything was so different from Doma and I grew ill in those first weeks. Jowd kept reassuring me I would be okay. He was right… of course he was.”

Her eyes wandered over Cabanela’s face. “But, I wasn’t the only one, was I, though I’m sure you’ve tried to forget.” Her mouth twitched. “Jowd had less than diplomatic words for this young ambassador insisting on health despite all evidence to the contrary. Still… I think it took you less time to get used to it than I.” Something of it had always suited him… or he it.

The rain began to fall in large splatters against the window. Alma flinched at a large crack of thunder overhead. As she padded over to the hearth to light a fire, wind rushed and howled outside. Not just rain, a torrential downpour. Another peal of thunder rolled overhead.

Alma brought the chair and a book over to Cabanela’s bedside. “Should we continue?” There was nothing to do now and the story would provide a good distraction from worries of how much damage the storm might cause. As she read, her voice mingling with the crackle of the fire, her hand sought out Cabanela’s in a small bubble of peace while the storm raged outside.

**Day 205**

_It’s as I feared. What little was left of the garden was destroyed. I’m not sure how much I can restore. In all honesty I’m not certain how much still thrived before the storm. I suppose this is a more definitive answer._

_I’ve not gone far from the house yet. The paths are still thick with mud and difficult to traverse. I’ll take a better look at the surrounding areas tomorrow._

**Day 263**

_Nightmares again… I miss them. I miss them so much._

**Day 270 … Day 271 … Day 275 … Day 300 …**

**Day 301**

_It’s been quite some time since I’ve written anything. What purpose is there when every day is the same? I’ve considered leaving. Would we stand a better chance? Can we find the main land? What if someone can help him? All possibilities but I… I can’t bring myself to. I can’t risk his life with an unknown journey. I can’t lose him now. We never got the chance to talk. I never got the chance to apologize. I never got to tell him I still…_

_I…_

_I can’t lose him too. Is this right or merely cowardice?_

_I’m sorry Cabanela, I’m so sorry._

**Day 339**

Alma stared at the day’s number that was all she’d written hours before. She’d returned to it twice only to push it aside and now she was here a third time while prodding at the small amount of fish on her plate. It hadn’t been a good catch in size or taste. She choked down what she could before pushing the remnants away as well with a long sigh.

Tired… She abruptly rose from the table. Never mind the rest of the day. It had all passed in a pointless blur while she tried and failed to shake away the images of empty corridors and fading faces that had plagued her all night.

She slid into the bed, pressing close to Cabanela and cast an arm over him, to hold or to cling to, she couldn’t say which, while she squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden sting.

“Please…”

Alma toyed with the journal page. Day 365 by her count, give or take a day or two in her initial confusion. A year since they fell. A year since they met again. A year since the Jester took everything. A year since the world started its fall to ruin. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Her gaze slid to Cabanela. For one maybe that was all it ever would be. Hadn’t his life ended that day? This wasn’t him. This was a shell. Some days it took everything to pull away from him as if he might completely disappear if she didn’t watch over him. Other days she couldn’t stand the sight. He wasn’t supposed to be so still. He wasn’t supposed to be so lifeless!

The anger faded as quickly as it came leaving her slumped in the seat. There was no point. He was far away, far out of reach, just like Jowd and Kamila and everyone else, if they lived at all. Sometimes she wondered if she was all that was left. She and this husk on a lone island until her own end came.

She continued to stare, not really seeing him or anything when something caught her eye and she stiffened. What was…? No, she had to have imagined that, but she stood, her legs taking over where her mind refused. She thought Cabanela’s hand twitched, but that was impossible. He’d been motionless for a year. Surely she had imagined it but she found herself at his bedside, staring, hoping against hope and all sense.

_The light was hot and blinding. If he closed his eyes he could almost believe he was back in the desert at midday. He couldn’t. Instead he stared, squinting past the light into the darkness, seeking one face among the many faceless. Only one mattered. And She… She was out of sight but close. He knew it. This was for them and them alone._

_The words flowed effortlessly. They… were everything._

_Per sempre ognor._

_The light dimmed into a more welcoming darkness. His face stood out clearer than ever. He stepped closer to the edge of the stage, willing Him to hear. To understand, to know he was coming._

_Per sempre…_

_His words wavered. The light grew brighter dimming His face until He was gone from his sight. White filled his vision._

_…ognor…_

_Whispered, dying into nothingness. His voice failed._

_“It was all a lie.”_

_The light dimmed. The crowd vanished leaving only one. She stood tall, proud and distant. So far away now._

_“I should have known.”_

_What was a puppet to say?_

Alma stared hardly daring to breathe. Had his breathing changed? Could it be or was she merely fooling herself? Was she cracking at last in the dying place? “Cabanela…”

_He fell. A traitor to all. A discarded puppet. Faces lost beyond a mask._

_His sword flashed as he arced down to that abominable mask and the face underneath. The cause of their torment. This time. He was here for them. This time he would succeed. This time they would be together at last._

_They fell away. She was here. Why was she here? She was supposed to be with_ them _. They fell and there was nothing he could do. He was… so tired…_

_This time, this time, thistimethistimethistime, this…._

_What was time to the void?_

Alma shook her head. What was she thinking? What had she really expected? Why should today be any different from the rest?

“Maybe one day… I’ll wait.”

_They were there. The ground kept slipping out from under him. One more step, one more. A little more, one muscle at a time. If he could just reach. They were there… They waited for him._

She couldn’t keep doing this. There were other things to do today. Staring for signs that wouldn’t come did nothing. Alma started to turn away and froze at the odd sound. She slowly turned back, holding her own breath in the silence. His breath had hitched, she was certain of it, a change more noticeable than a yell in the rhythms she’d long grown used to.

“Cabanela?” She tried to steady her voice. “Come back.”

_“You’ll come back soon?” Alma looked at him with a worried frown._

_“Of couuurse, baby, before you know it!”_

_“But you don’t know when, do you?” Jowd asked shrewdly._

_“It’ll be longer than normal,” he conceded, “but time’ll pass in the blink of a chocobo’s eye, you’ll seeee.”_

_“Are you really sure about this?”_

_He bit back a scowl. They worried too much. Couldn’t they see? “I told you before.”_

_“We just want you to be safe,” Alma cut in._

_“The lab boys have been workin’ at this for aaages. They’re ready. I’m ready.” He cast out a hand and all annoyance faded to excitement. “Just think of it baby! Next time you see me, I’ll have it. Magic!”_

_The lab was cold. The light above was too bright and he squinted, covering his eyes with one hand until a forceful grip pulled it back._

_He was bound. A mirror rose tall above. He smiled. His vision faded._

_He was floating, but lying down. Strange. The lab techs’ voices were an irritating buzz. Was it… done already? Was that how this worked? A blink and a miss? It was so hard to think…_

_Doctor Asbolus stood over him. He tried to find his tongue to speak. “’s’it over ‘ready?”_

_“Bah, he’s showing unusual resistance. Increase the dosage.”_

_“Are you sure, sir?”_

_That didn’t sound right… was it right? Wasn’t he supposed to be unconscious now? Out and then awake with new magic. Good plan, easy plan… He tried to raise a hand. Hand… where was it again…?_

_“Now. I need to concentrate and have no intentions of doing so through screams.”_

_Screams rent the air. Lightning flashed and arced all around._

_He burned._

_“Miiine.”_

_Everything burned._

_“Burn them all!”_

Alma dropped to her knees. His breathing _had_ changed, growing stronger, but also faster. A muscle tensed in his face. She took his hand in both her own. “Cabanela, I’m here. Wake up…”

_“Wake up.”_

_He blinked. Warm yellows and blues. A far better sight than the cold greys of the labs he expected. And an even better sight in the beard above him._

_Alma stood over them both. “I’m sorry I need my husband back I’m afraid.” A puzzling note of worry entered her voice. “But, are you all right?”_

_Was he all right? He was better than all right and he beamed up from Jowd’s lap as the last dregs of his dreams faded. “Never better baby!”_

_Never better… The professor look unimpressed at his display. He tried to swallow his rising nausea and avoid glancing at the glass or his hands… Goddesses what use would he ever have for that?_

_“What happened?”_

_Poison. The word coursed through him as he furiously paced the room. He’d never felt so trapped or helpless, grasping onto whatever news he could get. Doma poisoned. The royal family dead. Its people dead. He felt sick. And the Queen of Figaro… status: unknown. She had to be all right. She was all right. She had to be. Her family dead and she was alone… Soon, he would return to her with Jowd and Kamila. She wouldn’t be alone in this for long. Soon… soon._

_“Five years. Five years you’ve left me with nothing but lies!”_

_The words made no sense. This was wrong, all wrong._

_“The sickest game of them all.”_

_“Shall we plaaay a new game, my puppet? What rooole shall we give you this time? An assassin perhaps? Sent for the King of Figaro…”_

_Traitor._

No. Alma squeezed his hand. No, no, no. He’d gone too still again. She reached out to cup his cheek. “Cabanela, come back. Come back… To me…”

_He struggled not to lean into her touch. He struggled not to think of blows raining down. This wasn’t his Figaro anymore… But that touch…_

_He froze as she adjusted a ribbon. He caught the look as she’d eyed him and didn’t dare hope for anything._

_Darkness and starlight. Forever and always. Fading…_

_He felt faded. This wasn’t the Vector he knew. Every instinct screamed at him to leave. He couldn’t leave. He was trapped here, locked into movements that weren’t his own._

_Her touch was like a shock of cold water, but welcome for it. His gaze held. Her hand under his…_

_Their arms around him. They waited…_

His hand twitched under hers. Alma struggled to control her voice. “I’m here.”

Her eyes widened as his mouth opened slowly and his voice was a rough whisper.

“My Queen…”

“Yes!” the word came out in a choked gasp. “Open your eyes. I’m right here.”

His brow furrowed and with a slow exhale his eyes cracked opened. Dark eyes she hadn’t seen in far too long stared at the ceiling. He blinked once, slowly then again.

“Cabanela?”

She felt more than saw his head as slight as the movement was. His eyes fixed on her.

“Alma…” His voice was hoarser than she’d heard from him before and the most beautiful thing. The corners of his mouth twitched into a weak smile. “Theeere you are…”

Here _she_ was? Here _he_ was and without a second thought she leaned forward and pulled his shoulders up to hug him close. He was here, he was here. His breath escaped in a small gasp but he was limp in her arms. Like he had been back then… and oh goddesses. What was she thinking? She eased him back down and abruptly pulled back to sit on the side of the bed.

“I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He stared at her before making an odd sound and it took her a moment to realize he was laughing. “You could neeever hurt me, baby.”

As if to try to prove his point, he struggled to get his arms under him and shakily pushed himself further up the headboard. It was very little progress before he sagged into the pillow but better than she feared. He looked less than impressed with his efforts and she could see him trying to build up to try again. She caught hold of his hand.

“Give yourself some time.”

He scowled but remained still. His gaze wandered the room before coming back to rest on Alma.

“Jowd… The others? The professor. I saw him.”

Alma took a slow breath. Two questions she dreaded answering and that was one of them. “I don’t know. We landed on an island. You and I are… the only ones here. There was a man who lived here; this was his place. I found him dead a day after we arrived.”

“They’re safe. We survived. They’re out there too.”

Such certainty. It was comforting and she wished she could share it.

“Sorry for leavin’ you like that,” Cabanela said. “How long have I been ouuut?”

And there was the other question. She couldn’t make it any worse than she had the first time, but it felt far worse. She hadn’t given it much thought; she’d been too angry for that. She’d had no idea of what it truly meant to him yet. Now he lay here weak and still vulnerable and she was supposed to tell him he was missing yet another year?

“Alma?”

“A year,” she said quietly. “It’s been a year since we fell.”

Cabanela’s eyes widened and what colour he had regained drained from his face.

“I’m sorry,” Alma said quickly. “I’m so sorry. If we hadn’t left you maybe—.”

“There was nothin’ to be dooone. The Statues.” His mouth twisted. “He had so much power. It was too dangerous. This isn’t your fault.”

Alma shook her head furiously, releasing his hand as she pulled inward. “No!”

“Alma—.”

But the words were already welling up, words and fears and regrets built over the year. “We left you. _I_ left you again. After Lynne told me how she found you I still treated you terribly in Figaro. After all our travels, after seeing _you,_ the real you, after the opera…” Her breath shuddered. “Despite everything I feared you. I feared you could turn on us at any point. I was afraid I would have to fight you and try to kill you. I felt _guilty_ for wanting to believe you. I believed you betrayed us at Vector. Cidgeon and Jowd spoke of what they saw and knew and I struggled to see that any hope could remain. I believed you were that monster. I believed that you _could_ be!”

Her hands clenched and she tried to swallow the sudden rising lump in her throat. “And then I got you back and I wondered if I might ever truly see you again. I wondered if you were really gone. I…” She choked and clenched her eyes shut. No tears. She would not burden him with that as well. “You never gave up, ever, but I… I started to give up on you.”

She felt a slight shifting in the bed and opened her eyes, still narrowed against the threatening sting. Cabanela sat up and suddenly surged forward to wrap his arms around her. The burst of strength didn’t last as he draped over her, his head bowed over her shoulder, but he held her tightly.

His voice was low and still held the unfamiliar hoarseness, but the warmth in it was undeniable. “I’m happy I woke to you.”

“But I…”

“I missed you so much. I dreamt of you in the dark. You and Jowd. It should never have taken so long, but you’re heeere and we will find Jowd and Kamila again too. I promise.”

She eyed him. Such simplicity. But nothing was so simple. She embraced him back. “And what about you? You’ve given so much for us. What about what you want?”

He sounded strangely incredulous to her ears, even faintly puzzled. “That’s aaall I’ve ever wanted.”

She frowned. He was so weak still. Maybe when he was stronger, maybe then they could talk properly and he’d see. See what they’d done. How wrong this all was. For now maybe it was okay to just hold onto this moment. He _was_ here despite everything.

They held onto one another until she felt his arms weaken and she realized she was taking on more and more of his weight. Still keeping a hold on him she pulled back and reached out with one hand to fluff up the pillow and arrange it, so she could more easily help him stay propped up.

“You should lie down again, come on.”

She eased him back and he gave a soft sigh. He looked so drained she thought and she brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Hey, are you hungry?”

His brow knit in a puzzled frown. “I don’t knooow. Should I be?”

“I would guess. I can make some fish soup?”

“Worth a shot,” he said with a small shrug.

“Right,” and with a last long look at him she took to her feet.

Fish soup was probably being generous, Alma thought as she gave the pot the occasional stir. Still, nourishment was nourishment and she appreciated the chance to focus on it alone and let her thoughts settle. When she was satisfied that it was cooked and as good as it was ever going to get she ladled some into a mug, and paused when it was half full. Yes best to leave it that. He was so weak still. Spilling hot soup wouldn’t help or improve his mood.

“Here you are,” Alma said when she returned to Cabanela’s bedside and passed him the mug. He took it in shaking hands, confirming her choice. She reached out to steady his hand and gave him an apologetic smile at the look of distaste he couldn’t quite cover. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it’s not much. I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of options outside fish.”

Cabanela frowned at her. “What do you meaaan?”

Alma winced, regretting saying anything. He’d have to know soon, but she felt like all she’d been giving him was bad news after bad. Not that there was much else to give.

“The world hasn’t been the same since that day. It’s hard to keep many plants alive, at least edible ones. It’s rare to see animals.” She nodded toward the window. “It’s getting dark now, but honestly it never gets very much brighter than this.”

“The Statues,” Cabanela said. “The magic…”

“The world’s been sliding into ruin ever since.” She hesitated a moment then, “What happened back there?”

Cabanela took a sip of the soup. “Not much to teeell. We fought. He seemed to be absorbing the magic itself. There wasn’t anythin’ I could do to him. I trapped him between the statues and… ran.”

“With any luck he died there,” Alma said harshly.

“Nooo, no he’s still aliiive.”

“How can you be sure?”

Cabanela gave her an odd smile. “Because I am.”

“He’s not you,” she said fiercely. “And we both saw what was happening. Could he really survive being in the centre of all of that?”

“He revelled in it. He caaame from me. I know me. He’s alive.”

Alma fell silent while he drank more of the soup then, “How much do you know about him? When did you find out?”

“In Vector. He revealed himself to me after we parted.” His eyes darkened and he looked distant for a moment before continuing. “I was too outnumbered to do much so I retreated. I stayed in Vector hopin’ I could learn more about him and what Sith wanted. I thought I might be able to stop them then.”

But he hadn’t. It had all fallen to ruin. So much given only to lose in the end. What could she tell him in the face of that? “Did you?” she asked. “Did you learn more? You said he came from you…”

“He was all too happy to tell me some of it himself. He’s magitek and more. The infusions, it aaall started there. They gave and they took. My blood. The same magic. Of couuurse he was far easier to enhance.”

Alma felt a chill. They worried about him and the dangers such an experiment would entail, but this was far beyond any of their greatest fears. They had used him in every way they could.

“Anyhoot,” Cabanela continued. “I knew they were up to somethin’ else. He disappeared from Vector, so I went after Sith.”

Alma nodded. Yes, he had joined them and she suppressed a shudder at everything that happened after.

“I trailed Sith to the Sealed Gate. When that continent rose I lost track of him. I made my way back and heeere we are.”

Here they were. He made it sound so simple like it was nothing. There was so much more to say, so much more she knew he was keeping to himself and she had no idea where to begin.

“Let me get that for you,” Alma said instead, noticing the mug was empty. He passed it to her and she left a little more hurriedly than normal.

Outside she could rinse the mug out and more importantly think. This morning she saw only another day passing like the rest. A bland sort of despair, another empty page. Now she felt overwhelmed. He was awake; she couldn’t be happier about that. And she was confused and angry and… and afraid. Now what? He needed to recover his strength and then…?

The raft waited downstairs, had waited for the better part of the year. The thought of actually using it mattered now. Now there were possibilities… but were there? She’d made so many plans at the start. Where to go first, who to contact, places to check. How best to make use of Figaro’s castle. Did any of it mean anything in this changed world? What was left?

She shivered and it was getting harder to see in the growing darkness. It was time to go back inside, maybe get some sleep. Maybe things would feel clearer in the morning and he would be there. She couldn’t deny the swell of warmth at that thought.

Cabanela’s eyes were closed when she came back in and her heart sunk until he opened them when she got close. Tired, he looked so tired, too thin and somehow flat. Everything he should never be.

“I was thinking about getting some sleep now,” Alma said. “You should too.”

“I slept for a year, baby.”

Alma shook her head. “I don’t know what that was, but I don’t think it could be called sleep.”

His expression tightened and he looked around the room. “Where does that go?” he asked with a nod toward the side door.

“There’s a room in the basement, storage really.”

A deeper frown creased his face as if he was trying to figure out some difficult puzzle. “Where do yooou sleep?”

Alma stared at him. _That_ was what was bothering him? She shifted uncomfortably. In truth she had spent most nights these days with him. Now he was awake she wouldn’t blame him if he wasn’t comfortable with that. After everything they’d gone through… Well, there was no point in beating around the bush.

“With you most of the time.” He blinked at her. She plowed on more quickly. “Now that you’re awake I don’t need to keep an eye on you anymore.” Or remind herself that he was still alive. “I’ll set up something else.”

He continued to stare at her and she couldn’t read his expression, but she didn’t expect his reply.

“I don’t miiind.” He hesitated. His gaze dropped and she almost missed his next comment. She’d never heard his voice so… small. “Keep me here…”

She felt like something in her crack. Of course… Wordlessly, she slid in beside him. His eyes were half-lidded and she wondered how close to sleep he was already. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and rested her head against his shoulder.

“It’ll only be morning when you wake up.”

He leaned his head against hers. “I’ll be heeere.”

He fell asleep first. She closed her eyes, and listened to his breath until she succumbed to sleep as well, comforted in the knowledge that this time they would wake together.


	4. Chapter 4

Alma woke and it took her a moment to sort through the mess of relief and worry. Then her eyes snapped open. Cabanela was propped up and awake, head angled toward the window. The first morning they could wake together, the first morning he was awake after a year-long coma and still he woke before her—typical of the man and she couldn’t be more pleased for it. At her movement he turned to look at her.

“Mooornin’. Or close enough it seeems.” He nodded toward the window. “Is it always like this?”

It was unnecessary, but she glanced toward the window as well for the same daily sight. “Yes, or darker if the weather turns, but that’s rare.”

She turned her attention back to Cabanela and found herself studying his face. His complexion was off, she thought and his face seemed thinner, more wrinkles around his eyes, but this was still him and his eyes… She’d almost forgotten their warmth. _He_ would stare at her just so and she would feel like a prize to be won and coveted and nothing more. She saw none of that in Cabanela’s eyes, only care and—she glanced away—now building concern.

“Something wrooong, baby?”

She shook her head. Plenty was wrong, but this? Not one bit. She managed a small smile. “I think I’ve just realized how much I missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

She found herself staring, caught in his gaze and caught in the strangeness of being here beside him, of him being awake to talk to and to see. She knew it couldn’t have been long, but it felt like an eternity before she shook herself from it.

“I’ll get something prepared for breakfast,” she said just a little too quickly and rose from the bed. There was still a little dried fish left and… and she could still feel Cabanela’s eyes on her… and something else, yes. She’d sort that out when she felt less off-balance. 

Dried fish and the last of the potatoes as it turned out. It seemed the occasion warranted it and some real sustenance could only do Cabanela good. Alma carefully brought the two plates—two!—back upstairs where she stopped dead in the doorway and had to secure her grip.

The bed was empty. She set the plates down on the table and hurried over to it. A sigh mixed of relief, worry and exasperation escaped her when she spotted Cabanela on the floor between the bed and wall. His fists were clenched against the floor and head bowed. As she circled round to him he looked up with a flash of anger before his expression went carefully neutral.

He spoke with a brittle lightness. “I can’t seem to staaand.”

“You should have waited for me before trying anything,” Alma scolded.

She reached out a hand to help him up. After a moment’s pause he took it and she hauled him up. “Let’s get you back to the bed…” she trailed off at the expression on his face.

“I’d rather nooot spend more time there.”

In all honesty, she’d rather not see him there either. She bit her lip then ducked under his arm to take it around her shoulders. “To the table then. Against all better judgement I might add.”

He flashed a smile and she knew that was that. Even if he did swiftly prove her point by leaning heavily against her, legs shaking. Their progress was painfully slow and she knew she did most of the work, his efforts expended in simply staying upright and clinging to her. It hurt. In some ways it was worse to see than his previous death-like stillness. But at last they made it and he sagged into the seat at the table and she took the stool.

They ate quietly and Alma was relieved to see he seemed more intent on it than the previous night’s soup. The more energy he built the better.

When they finished, Alma rose. “I have some chores outside.” To her dismay Cabanela followed suit, gripping the table. “You should rest,” she said. “You just woke yesterday.”

“I can do so just as easily outside,” Cabanela replied. “You said the world changed. I want to see it.”

No, you don’t, Alma thought privately to herself. She took in the determined set in his jaw; this wasn’t a battle she would win. So be it. He could sit outside if he still chose to; he was right about that. Maybe it was just as well to get this over with sooner than later.

The door was close at least even if his halting and stiff steps made it seem far longer. Alma braced herself as she opened the door for him. She knew what to expect; Cabanela had yet to see much past what the small window offered. He leaned against the door frame and stared out.

She followed his gaze over the dry and cracked ground. She watched his head turn to the withered remnants of the garden and his eyes pass over the bare trees.

“You lived with this, baby?”

She blinked. “It took time to reach this point,” she said slowly. Not much better she realized as his mouth twisted. “The beach isn’t so bad,” she added, wondering now who she was trying to convince. “I fish there. I can take you when you’ve gotten stronger.”

“I seee.”

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“Out here’s fiiine, baby.” And with that Cabanela took a slow step, bracing against the wall for support. He managed a few short steps, still clinging to the wall, before easing himself down to sit on the ground.

If he insisted Alma wasn’t about to attempt a fruitless argument. When she was certain he was settled she fetched the axe and set to work. The firewood needed restocking and she let herself get lost in the simple rhythm of the axe, only pausing occasionally to look toward Cabanela. He hadn’t moved from his spot and whenever she glanced at him he seemed lost in thoughts of his own.

Once she finished and stacked the wood she pulled back with a sigh and rolled her shoulders. It was odd. She almost felt at peace. It wouldn’t last; she still had to herd Cabanela back inside, but maybe they could have this one peaceful day before the worries swarmed back in.

“I’m going back in,” Alma said when she returned to Cabanela. “Are you coming?”

In response he pushed himself back up against the wall with a slight bow of his head. “After youuu.”

He did manage two steps, before he overstepped, wobbled and caught himself on the wall. Alma reached out to steady him. She frowned at the anger that twisted his face. What did he expect? To simply spring back to his usual dancing self? Even he couldn’t bounce back that fast regardless of high expectations.

“This is a start,” she said firmly.

Some of the tension eased from his face even if the smile he gave her was far more strained than normal. “One step at a time, is that iiit?”

“Just keep moving: it’s what you always do, isn’t it?” Alma returned with a small smile of her own before she helped him back into the cottage.

The next few days passed in an odd sort of blur. Alma felt trapped in a haze of worry with bouts of relief as the days wore on. Cabanela was slowly improving, movement growing easier with a makeshift cane Alma was able to fashion, but his moods grew more unpredictable. Some days she found herself feeling the faintest starts of hope when Cabanela’s cheer seemed to fill the cottage. Other days he matched that of the island—quiet and if she could bring herself to admit to the strangeness of it, even gloomy. She knew he was frustrated with his low energy and limited mobility—and was outright angry when he overreached his limits and fell on more than one occasion. His flashes of temper had a way of lashing around the cottage, leaving her to fend off frustration and anxiety of her own.

She knew he wanted to leave as soon as possible, but how could they when he was still so weak despite his best efforts to attempt to prove otherwise? Their first trip to the beach and back had left him exhausted and his failing attempts to hide it crumbled when he fell into a fitful sleep early that evening.

It wasn’t just his physical state getting to him either. He hadn’t had a year to get used to their new world—get used to or grow numb to it—she sometimes couldn’t be certain which. The Jester came from him and the Jester destroyed their world. She couldn’t imagine what he thought and hadn’t found the words to ask in the face of his cheer and on a bad day she found herself unable to risk making things worse.

They would leave. It was only a matter of time now, but what they would find in the rest of the world? She couldn’t imagine it was any better and what then? An endless question that went nowhere.

Another day passed like those before it. Alma made her way back to the cottage bearing the fish she’d caught for the day. When she entered she found Cabanela slumped in the chair in front of the fire. She set the fish aside and went to him.

She rested a hand on his shoulder. He twitched slightly under her but when he craned his head back to look at her there was a smile on his face—a little tighter than Alma was used to—but there.

His shoulders betrayed that smile as she ran her hands over tense knots. He gave a soft sigh as she rubbed at those spots. She slowly worked her way up his neck and to his jaw—so much tension there as well—where she let her fingers linger over his cheek. He went rigid. With a strangled gasp he jerked away, stumbling away from the chair. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees, hands pressing against the floor.

“Cabanela!” Alma was at his side in an instant, kneeling next to him. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

He didn’t respond. She started to reach out and stopped short. If she’d already caused this once, what would a second time do? “Cabanela? What is it? Will you look at me?”

He turned his head to her and she swallowed when she was met with terrifyingly blank eyes. She remembered his behaviour in Vector, how he’d reacted to the throne-like chair in the elevator. Was this similar?

“It’s okay,” she said as soothingly as she was able. “Whatever you saw or felt… it’s just you and I here. In this cottage on the island, remember? I’m right here.”

She rapped the floor when he continued to stare blankly. “See? Our floor and the chair is just behind you. And there’s the fire.”

Cabanela’s eyes flicked to the hearth.

“That’s right,” Alma said encouragingly. “It’s safe here. Feel the warmth.”

Her heart sunk as the silence stretched and she wondered if he heard her. “Cabanela?”

Then his eyes widened and his breath quickened, the colour draining from his face.

She drew closer to him, not quite touching yet, not daring to do so. “What is it?”

“Buuurn it aaall!”

She recoiled at the all too familiar tones. Of course their voices were the same; she knew this. But that sing-song joy in destruction did not belong to Cabanela. It didn’t belong here. She’d never wanted to hear it again.

He spoke again, his voice now distant and flat, and his eyes remained fixed on the fire. “I remember that much. Hearin’ your own voice and not being in a position to do anything about it, even recognize it… Do you know the smell of burnt flesh?”

She stared at him in growing horror. They’d heard enough rumours of the Jester’s Shadow and then to find out who he was—she’d prayed Cabanela wouldn’t ever remember any of his time in the slave crown.

“There was fire… and so much smoke. Screams. No, that was… only Tzen, wasn’t it?” He paused. “Of course it wasn’t. History repeats itself after all. Maranda…”

No, that was enough. She planted herself firmly between the fire and Cabanela. “It’s over. That wasn’t you.”

His breath escaped in a short burst and he rocked back to sit on the floor, stiffly bending his knees to rest his arms over them.

“Do you… remember what happened to Maranda now?” Alma asked hesitantly.

He closed his eyes for a moment then with a slow sigh he opened them and spoke. “Not all of it. Biiits and pieces.”

And that was too much, Alma thought. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never meant to bring back memories of any of that.”

He started to reach for her and hesitated. She covered the remaining distance and took his hand.

“It’s not your fault, baby. I don’t know what came over me. There was a sudden urge to get away and for a moment… I was expectin’ to see me—him. Then the fire…”

“It wasn’t you,” she said. “Any of it. He used you.”

“We made quiiite the weapon.”

Cabanela winced as Alma’s grip tightened on his hand and she forced herself to loosen it. “You can’t blame yourself for what _he_ did.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head with an odd smile. “But the simple fact is that I put myself there for a force I had no understandin’ of. I gave myself over to them repeatedly and gave them aaall they needed. That responsibility is mine, baby. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”

“Maybe you’re not entirely blameless,” Alma said. “But in our greatest fears none of us could have dreamed of this. I know you don’t want to think it, but you’re just as much a victim of the Empire.”

“Maaaybe so,” Cabanela said after a moment. His eyes hardened. “Their mistake. I came too late to do anything, but I caught what happened to Sith.”

“Play with fire,” Alma murmured. If any of the Empire remained they now had two fires to contend with. She didn’t envy them and as she took in Cabanela’s still haggard appearance she held no sympathy for them either. If they and the Jester destroyed each other it would be all for the better.

“I don’t knooow what remains of the Empire. He had no love for it either, but I know he’s still alive. I will stop him.”

“We will,” Alma said.

“Riiight.”

Alma eyed him. He seemed far calmer now and more himself. She slowly took to her feet.

“I should really deal with that fish.”

Cabanela perked up. “What can I help with?”

“It’s a one person job…” she trailed off. He needed something to do and simple quiet rest wasn’t going to cut it for him. Some sort of distraction… her eyes landed on the shelf. “Will you read to me?”

He sprung up ignoring the warning frown she gave him. Pulling that stunt was going to land him on the floor one of these times. Again.

“Glaaad to!”

He did make it to the shelf and back despite her concerns, and stretched out into the chair, flipping open the book with a flourish. Alma turned away to the table, a smile tugging at her lips. Careless yes, and possibly he was overcompensating to a degree after what just happened. In this moment she was only happy to see this return to his old self and she relaxed into her tasks as his voice washed over her.

Another day saw the pair walking along the beach. Cabanela wanted to stretch his legs and Alma accompanied him, her mind wandering. She’d been up and down this beach so many times she paid little attention to where they were going, letting her feet guide her. The tide sounded in her ears, a steady background to her thoughts and a constant reminder. Soon. Soon this beach could be behind them. It didn’t seem real.

Cabanela suddenly stopped. “What’s thaaat?”

“What is it?”

But Cabanela was already striding forward, his pace quickening as he drew closer to whatever it was that caught his attention, his cane slipping in the sand in his haste.

He swept down into a crouch at the edge of the water, letting his cane fall away. She caught up as he lifted a sodden pink… She went still as she tried to absorb what she was seeing. It wasn’t possible.

“But that’s…”

“Jowd,” Cabanela confirmed.

She swallowed as she took in the sight of the torn and familiar smock. “But… If that’s here…” She covered her mouth. Goddesses no.

“A siiign,” Cabanela breathed.

“If he fell,” Alma said, unable to finish her thought and feeling as if the words could choke her.

Cabanela shook his head, his fingers running over the fabric almost reverently. “I don’t think this is from the fall, baby. Something more recent.”

“Then what?” Her eyes fixed on the tear. “An attack? What is it doing here?”

“This ain’t a tear. Look cloooser. This was cut, baby. Deliberately.”

He was right. On closer examination she realized it was too clean to be a tear. “What does this mean?”

“It meeeans he’s out there and maybe closer than we think. We’ve just gotta find him.”

He reached out for the cane and pulled himself up. His eyes were bright as he held the smock close with a lack of regard for how it dripped onto his own clothing. Alma couldn’t stop staring at the fabric. A sign? Maybe. It was something tangible, there was no arguing that, but as to what it really meant? Cabanela looked happier than she’d seen him since he woke, but she only felt a sudden fear. Was this hope or false hope?

“We’ve got this. We’ve got the raft,” Cabanela said. “We can’t keep lingerin’ here.”

Alma eyed him. If he’d had his way they would have left the day after he woke. Now however, was it time? Had it already been time? Had she been practical about his health or only stalling?

“This will take some time. We need to make preparations,” she said the words coming automatically, while her thoughts whirled. “Gather as much food and water as we can bring. We don’t know how long this journey will take if we… make it.” Or what they would find on the other side.

Cabanela beamed. “Of course we’ll make it, baby! Failure’s not an option, never waaas.”

She wished she could share his confidence. Failure wasn’t an option? Hadn’t they failed before already? She wished she could simply believe this was a good sign and nothing else.

“Alma? What’s wrong?”

She abruptly turned away. “Nothing. We should get back. It’s going to get dark soon.”

She felt his eyes on her as she started back up the beach before he quickly caught up. She kept her gaze fixed forward, unable to look at him and unable to look at the fabric in his arms.

Jowd, Kamila, home… were they really out there?


	5. Chapter 5

_Alma’s steps echoed in empty corridors. An urgency she couldn’t place filled her until she came to the large pair of doors towering over her. She pushed them open; there was only place she had to be and that was… through here, wasn’t it?_

_She relaxed as she entered. There they were. They were safe. Mother and father sat on their thrones. She seemed to cross the room in a flash. Her ease faded. Something was wrong._

_Her mother looked up at her, face drawn and pale and eyes dark. Her hands rested limply over the throne’s arms. She shook her head with disappointment._

_“You came too late.” She sunk deeper into the throne, eyes falling shut, and went still._

_“Mother, no!”_

_A pained gasp caught her attention and she turned to face her father._

_“We expected better of you, Alma.”_

_He fell forward, sliding off the throne. She tried to reach out to catch him her movements suddenly slow and clumsy. Too slow. He lay still across the floor._

_“Father, please…”_

_“Alma?”_

_Alma whirled around. “Meg!”_

_She stood at the entrance, pale and sad. “So they’re gone now too. They’re all dead, Alma.” Her eyes hardened. “And where were you? You’re my sister. How could you leave us?”_

_“That’s not!”_

_“You failed.” Meg took a step and pitched forward, crumpling into a heap on the floor._

_Alma darted toward her. “No, not you too. Meg, please.” And found herself in a long hall adorned with familiar blue and golden tapestries, but she couldn’t make out more than the colours._

_Jowd stood a few feet in front, his back turned to her._

_“Jowd, there you are.” Alma stepped forward and he did as well. “Jowd?”_

_He continued to walk silently ahead of her. She followed after. People lined the hall, faceless and their voices whispered around her._

_“Intruder. Foreigner.”_

_“Did you see how she fraternized with the enemy? A traitor, that’s what_ she _is.”_

_He hadn’t been the enemy, but then… how many terrible mistakes…_

_“Hmph, couldn’t even save her own kingdom, I hear. What gives her the right to take ours?”_

_I’m sorry…_

_“Lost the king and the princess. How worthless.”_

_No, she hadn’t lost Jowd. He was right there, just ahead, and Kamila… Kamila… Where was she? They would find her. Wouldn’t they? Why wouldn’t Jowd face her?_

_“Shameful.”_

_Was he ashamed of her too?_

_“Jowd, wait. Jowd!”_

_He disappeared through a door. She flung herself at it._

_Another corridor stretched before her lined with blue upholstered seats. The floor gently swayed under her with a rhythmic clacking. An all too familiar place... Why here? Why now? She hurried down the aisle past empty seats until she spotted him sitting placidly by the window._

_“Jowd!”_

_He smiled up at her._

_“We have to leave,” she said urgently. “We have no place here.”_

_“No, Alma. It’s you who doesn’t belong here. I’m exactly where I should be.”_

_“Don’t be an idiot. Come with me.”_

_“There’s nowhere for me to go.” His smile grew sardonic. “I’m sorry. I would take you if I could. I’d imagine the surroundings are better than that wreck of a world we left.” He chuckled. “But I’m afraid a failure would be poor company and garbage a poor sight.”_

_“What are you saying? You can’t give up! I won’t let you die!”_

_“Too late, my love.” He rose and gave her a gentle push. “Go on now.”_

_“No!”_

_She fell back and landed on the throne room floor. Two thrones remained empty and a figure bowed elegantly before them. He rose and spun round in one fluid motion._

_“Cabanela.”_

_“Welcome baaack, my Queen.”_

_“You’re here…”_

_“Mama!”_

_Alma gasped as Kamila stepped out from behind Cabanela._

_“Kamila!” Alma smiled. “You’re both here. Now, we just need to find Jowd. He’s… he’s…” Where was he? Something wasn’t right._

_The seven year old cocked her head, eyes wide. “Mama, what’s wrong? Where’s Papa?”_

_“He’s… He’s elsewhere.” Alma held out a hand. “So, why don’t we go find him?”_

_Kamila clapped her hands as if she’d just finished putting together one of her contraptions and stepped toward her. “Like hide and seek!”_

_Cabanela took a long step toward Kamila and caught her arm._

_“Ah aaah, kiddo. That’s not… saaafe.”_

_“Uncle?”_

_His voice dropped to a theatrical whisper and he winked at Alma. “You can’t be safe with heeer after all.”_

_His cape swept around her in a swirl of white. He spun once with it, settling into a deep bow and Kamila was nowhere to be seen._

_“Kamila! Where is she?” Alma demanded. “What have you done with her?”_

_“Gooone like the rest.” He jumped back to his feet. “Hiiide and seek. We can do all the seekin’ we want, but there’s nothin’ to find.”_

_“Bring her back!”_

_Cabanela surveyed his hand. “Bring her baaack… To what? A dead kingdom?”_

_A harsh wind blew. Doman soldiers littered the trampled grass, faces twisted in eternal pain. Alma shrunk back._

_“We were in Figaro.”_

_“Does it matter, baby? Doma, Figaro. It makes nooo difference.” His steps were light, almost joyful as he sprung toward her. His hand caressed her cheek. “You lost everyone eeelse. It’s just you and me nooow, baby.”_

_“No… My family, they’re....”_

_“Dead.”_

_“Kamila… Jowd…”_

_“We’re all that’s left.” He grinned. “But, we don’t have to be! We can rebuiiild them. We’ll get Jowd back! You’d never know the difference, baby.” His hand slid around to the back of her head while his head dropped to whisper in her ear, his breath a warm tickle against her. “You never diiid for meee.”_

_She made a strangled noise and shoved him back as hard as she could. He staggered and caught his balance as she drew her sword._

_“You are not Cabanela.”_

_“Aren’t I?” He cast out an arm encompassing the fallen soldiers and the river. “Who eeelse would do anything for youuu, my Queen?”_

_Alma snarled and lunged forward. Her sword plunged into his chest. He dropped to his knees, head bowed before her._

_Blood dripped onto stone. Desert stretched before them. Figaro’s parapets. Cabanela lifted his face, covered now in a smooth white mask. “Alma…”_

_“No… you’re not him.”_

_He slumped forward falling face first to the floor. Alma’s sword followed, clanging loudly in the sudden silence. She dropped to her knees and turned him over. The mask seemed to cling as she pulled it from his face. She hurled it away where it hit the floor in silent accusation, glistening sickeningly in the glaring sunlight._

_Cabanela’s eyes were glassy, face slack. Unmoving. She gripped his shoulders and shook him._

_“You’re not him. You’re not him! Wake up!”_

_Too still. Too much red across his whites. She stumbled to her feet. Turned. Fled._

_A door was thrust open. She strode across the empty throne room where a single throne waited at the end. Her hands slid over the arms, her throne, her place, as she settled into the seat. A pressure formed around her temples and she lifted a hand to touch the cool metal at her brow._

_A cold crown for a dead kingdom. The Queen of Nothing._

_She closed her eyes. So be it._

And opened her eyes to a dim room and Cabanela’s worried face above hers.

“Theeere you are.”

The images replayed themselves in her mind. Father, mother, sister: dead. Husband: gone. Kamila: vanished. One failure after another. And Cabanela… dead by her own hands.

He at least was here and only him, just Cabanela. She knew who he was. She lunged forward, flinging her arms around him. He rocked back at her force and only her grip kept him from falling off the bed. His arms settled gently around her.

“Heeey, whatever it was, it was only a dreeeam baby, nothin’ more.”

She shuddered. Just a dream and yet they were dead. Jowd and Kamila were gone. For all she knew they were dead too. And how many times had she wondered if she would have to bring Cabanela down herself? How close had she come to a terrible mistake?

“I’m aaall ears if you need ‘em.”

The words clamoured in her throat. Too many and she couldn’t find the strength to say any of them. She drew back.

“No. No, you’re right. It was just a dream. I’ll get breakfast; we have a long day ahead of us.”

Cabanela swung up from the bed. “I’ll get it. Looong past my turn, baby.”

Before she could say anything he was gone through the door. Alma leaned back against the headboard with a sigh and breathed. His energy had certainly made a comeback. It had been already, she reminded herself but he seemed entirely back. Where the smock had brought her fear, it had only seemed to bring him a fresh wave of energy. It was just as well; they had a day of planning and gathering ahead of them.

For wherever their plans and hopes may lead them…

 _“Too late, my love.”_ The words drifted back to her. No, no that had been nothing more than a dream born of her fears. She couldn’t know he was alive, but she couldn’t know he was dead either. It was a small comfort.

Cabanela returned and she started to rise from the bed when he came right up to her. He passed her one plate with a flourishing bow and all the mannerisms befitting a far fancier dish than that of the plain fish resting unappealingly on the plate.

“Breakfast in bed?” Alma asked wryly.

“And why nooot? In celebration, baby!”

Alma passed him a weak smile before fixing her attention on the fish. This she would not miss and she ate quickly to get it over with and to get on with the day while she still felt some drive to do so.

They worked together through the day attending their tasks in quiet at times, but more often accompanied by Cabanela humming or singing. Alma basked in his tones. It had been over a year since she last heard him sing and far too long since she’d heard him do so casually like this.

It was comforting to work at his side like this and in its familiarity she found herself almost believing this could all work out. They could make it across the ocean to whatever still remained. They could find everyone again. They could return to some semblance of the life they once had. 

And yet as they slowed to a halt for the day she found herself sinking back into the same melancholy. She excused herself from Cabanela, tried to ignore the flicker of concern in his eyes and made her way to the cliffs. A chance to think, to meditate. If she could only clear her mind, maybe the coming days would look clearer as well. Maybe this night would be free of the last’s torments.

It worked for a time, but when she opened her eyes with a slow exhale, part of her still focused on her breath, her gaze fixed on the dark mass of the ocean under darkening skies. It was foreboding enough under the facsimile of daylight. Now it seemed as deep and endless as the skies. Would they make it to whatever lay out there? Two on a single raft with limited supplies; it was hard to believe they could both survive. And what of Cabanela? He’d been through so much already—would this push him over the edge? He was doing better and had certainly shown as much today, but she knew how he could and would push himself.

But if Jowd and Kamila were out there, wasn’t the risk worth it? They were worth everything. A swelling of shame rose. To even consider staying; wasn’t that simply abandoning them? How could she possibly even consider it?

Ah, said a small voice, but what if they were better off without her? Hadn’t Kamila done so well those five years, happy, learning, and flourishing? She’d grown so much. Could she even claim to know her daughter anymore? What of Jowd who had changed so much? She’d done nothing to help him; he was left to rot in the Empire’s prisons, tormented by the face of friend and lover. If he wanted nothing more to do with her, could she blame him?

What if she simply stayed? Cabanela might have a better chance alone with more supplies. He wouldn’t have to be in the presence of one who hadn’t trusted him, who’d let that thing take his place. He wouldn’t have to be around someone he clearly hadn’t trusted enough to give some word of Kamila.

Stay… tend this piece of dying land until her own end.

“Alma?”

She nearly jumped, so focused on the growing darkness and her own thoughts as she was. Cabanela stood by her. She hadn’t even heard his approach.

She frowned up at him. “What are you doing here? I know you’re doing better, but coming up that path is still risky.”

“I’m not an invalid, baby.” He gave his cane a jaunty twirl. “Besiiides I took precautions.” He settled beside her, legs stretched out. “You always shoo us back in when it starts gettin’ dark. It’s gettin’ that waaay now and there was no sign of you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you come up here. You’re right, we should go.”

“Haaang on,” Cabanela said as she started to make a move to rise and she went still. “Something’s been eatin’ you since yesterday and longer I’d wager.”

“It’s… it’s nothing you need to worry about. Just the gloom of the island I suppose.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a whooole lot of nothin’, baby.”

Alma sagged. She ran her thumb over her fingers, not quite tapping each and she looked away from Cabanela to stare back at the ocean. “I want to find them. I want to bring Jowd back home… I want to get to know our daughter again. But I… we might never see them again.”

Cabanela caught her hand and ran his own thumb gently over her fingers. “We’ll find them all. Every laaast one.”

She laughed hollowly. Every last one? “We don’t know that. Can you really believe everyone survived the fall? Do you really think there’ll be anything to find if we can even survive this trip?”

Cabanela gave her a disbelieving look. “We have to believe it. And what’s the alternative?” He made a wide gesture. “Stayin’ here? This is no life, baby.”

Alma pulled her hand away, pulled herself inwards, shrinking in on herself with a shudder. “I know,” she said quietly. “I do. I’ve wanted to leave so many times, but… I’m afraid. I’m afraid of losing you and I…” The words felt like poison in her throat. “I can’t go back to an empty castle. Not again.”

She clenched her hands against the rising feelings. Sometimes she had been able to leave them be, an old wound scarred over that she didn’t have time to give attention. Over the past year it had seemed a distant thing as the rest of the world was. Only she and the silence. And then Cabanela woke, and somehow his presence seemed to put everything else into sharper relief. 

Cabanela’s voice and expression tightened. “I’m sorry.”

“I am grateful that you got Kamila to safety. I’m more grateful than I can say to you and Cidgeon both for keeping her safe and for trying to save Jowd. That doesn’t change that you vanished leaving me with nothing. It doesn’t change that I was left without knowing Kamila’s fate or yours. And if you’d ever given me some hint as to what you were doing, maybe things could have been different with him. Maybe I could have known how wrong things truly were.” Maybe he would be less broken as well. She shook her head and met his gaze. “I know you mean it and I can accept it, but I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t ask your forgiveness,” Cabanela said. “Just know that it won’t happen again.”

Even in the growing darkness she could see the set in shoulders in his shoulders and he met her eyes, his own fiery.

“I promised Kamila I would bring her father back and that she would come back home,” he said. “I made a promise to bring you all back together. I wasn’t able to fulfil those promises, but this time I will. You will get your home back, all of it.”

“ _All_ of it?” she asked with a pointed look.

He bowed his head. “If my King and Queen desiiire it.”

She puffed out a frustrated sigh. “You’re doing it again.”

“What are you talkin’ about baby?”

“Holding yourself apart from us. You did it back then; you’ve done it since. You thrust yourself headfirst into everything all alone and we’re left in the dust.”

“That’s not! I just want to fix this mess. I want to you see you happy and safe. That’s all I’ve wanted and if that means goin’ ‘headfirst’ into everything then so be it.”

“I don’t need you do anything for me!” Alma burst out. “I don’t need your protection. I don’t need your _service_. I’m not an object to covet and keep safe. I need your support. I need my friend, my partner, my… love. I need you to trust me.”

“I trust you with my life.”

“And what about with simply being you? Or to let us help before we’re left to pick up the pieces you leave behind? How about being honest with me?”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Silence isn’t always any better,” Alma said quietly. “You couldn’t tell me your plans. I stopped knowing you. I started to wonder if I ever truly had and I let him win. Then you came back. I waited with you this year, hoping against hope you would find your way back and you did. But I still don’t know. Do I know you anymore as I once did? Will you let me?”

“I’m still me.” There was an undercurrent of fear and anger in his voice. “I’m not him.”

“I know you’re not,” Alma said more gently. “Will you tell me something?”

“What can I say?”

“You did everything for us. I asked this before: what about you? What do _you_ want?”

“And I told you the truth. I…” He abruptly looked away out to the ocean. His mouth twitched.

She waited. He’d gone too still. Would he remain or simply spring back to words unsaid? Leave her with silence again. He did speak again, his words low, and her heart ached at the naked longing in his voice.

“I want to go home.”

Home. Their faces and smiles. Their voices, the touch of family. She shifted closer and wrapped her arms around him. “We will go home,” she said. “To Jowd and Kamila. Lynne and Missile… All of us.”

“Dad…”

She squeezed him tighter. He always referred to Cidgeon as the professor, but the fondness in his words had told them more. Of course the old professor was more than welcome in Figaro—she owed him so much—and she hoped he would come for son and… yes, granddaughter too.

“I am afraid,” Alma admitted quietly against him. “I lost them twice and my parents and sister before them. I can’t lose them a third time. And I have to know. Even if they’re… if…”

“They’re not,” Cabanela said fiercely.

“But I will know one way or another and that has to be better than uncertainty. You’re right. We can’t stay. And I can’t part from you again either. You’re part of my home too.”

“Alma…” He hugged her back and they remained in each other’s embrace, spent for words, as the darkness deepened around them until Cabanela spoke.

“Loook, the stars.”

Alma looked up. They were there, but faint, mere pinpricks in the sky hazed over.

“And there,” Cabanela said, pointing. “The Phoenix Tail.”

She followed his hand, squinting up into the night sky searching and then she saw it too. “It was so much clearer in Figaro,” she said.

“But it’s still there, baby.”

She leaned against his shoulder. “I always thought Doma was beautiful. The first time I saw the desert sky at night I felt like was dreaming.”

“The whooole sky sparkled.”

“Hey, do you remember the song you would sing for us?”

“How could I ever forgeeet?”

“Will you sing it again?”

Cabanela placed his arm around her shoulders and held her close as his voice sang out around them, the only sound in the silent night. Her heart ached. Love and sincerity ran through every word. If she closed her eyes she could believe they were back on their tower, Jowd’s arms around her while Cabanela stood at the wall, singing his heart to the desert, singing for them until his voice faded into the sands and they pulled him in to join them.

Jowd wasn’t here now, but Alma knew with a sudden certainty she would do anything to see them have that time again. They would be three again, none of them alone.

In this moment, she held onto the feel of Cabanela’s touch and held fast to his voice. In this place, this time just for them was good.

The day they left was really no different from any other, yet Alma was certain there was an extra spring in Cabanela’s step and she felt lighter somehow as if some unnoticed weight had lifted. The raft lay ready at their launch point and everything was packed. There was nothing more to do, no more reason to remain.

They paused to stand at the beach, the water lapping at the shoreline.

_Wherever you are hold on. We’re coming, my love._

Cabanela’s hand slipped over hers with a tight squeeze.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“I am.”

It was time to go.


End file.
